


The Wolf and the Roses

by fleurofthecourt



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Adventure, East of the Sun and West of the Moon - Freeform, Fairy Tale Retellings, Fairy Tales, M/M, Quest, Spells & Enchantments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-10
Updated: 2012-05-08
Packaged: 2017-11-01 17:29:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/359433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurofthecourt/pseuds/fleurofthecourt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Nick and Monroe's first date does not go as planned, Monroe gets more in touch with his lupine side, and Nick goes on a quest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Take A Chance On Me

**Author's Note:**

> Although it won't be completely apparent until later chapters, this is a retelling of East of the Sun and West of the Moon.

_Once upon a time in the not particularly distant land of Portland, Oregon, there lived a Grimm and a Blutbad. There would usually be no reason to note that these two creatures lived in the same vicinity as the other, but these two were remarkable._

_The Grimm was just and fair when many of his kind were not. The Blutbad was cultured and tame when many of his kind were not._

_However, their differences from others set them apart in an unfortunate manner. They were both lonely and longing for someone to understand them and the way they were._

_So it was that after meeting by chance they formed an unlikely companionship. But, soon, they came to find that mere companionship was not all they longed for._

 

Nick, after a long and heated debate with Monroe, had agreed to go on an official date. Nick had argued that they had already gone on many so-called dates while Monroe had challenged that they had almost always involved at least the undertone of Grimm or police business. Nick wished he were wrong because the moment they had attached the ‘first date’ label to their encounter, he knew that at least one of them was going to be uncomfortable and nervous about it. 

He stood on Monroe’s doorstep clasping the bouquet of roses he was holding, hoping that they could leave him paused on the doorstep, anchored in the perfect friendship that they already had. The roses, however, seemed to have other ideas as one of the thorns scratched at his thumb causing him to lift them up just as Monroe opened the door. 

“You’re really going all out on the ‘this is a date thing,’ huh?” Monroe said, looking pleasantly surprised and taking the roses from Nick. He brought them up to his nose and breathed them in deeply, “Well, you know, they’re lovely.” 

“Want me to find you a vase or something?” Nick asked, his eyes darting around Monroe’s living room as though he expected things to have changed in the past two days. But, aside from the cleaner than usual feel and the rich aroma of baking bread and chocolate, there was no discernible difference. The times on the clocks still didn’t match one another. The color palate was still lacking in red. And, Nick took a deep breath as he tried to keep this in mind, Monroe was still Monroe. 

“No, that’s okay. I’ll get one,” Monroe said. Now that the initial surprise of Nick bringing roses had worn off, Monroe looked as nervous as Nick felt. 

Nick followed Monroe into the kitchen, where Monroe gestured for him to sit down at the table while he fished under the sink for a vase. The table was already set with cutlery, candles, and a delicious looking bowl of bow-tie pasta. 

“Et voila,” Monroe said, grinning sheepishly, as he set the vase in the center of the table, pushing the pasta bowl to the side. “Makes a nice centerpiece. Well, let me just get the bread out of the oven and then we can eat.” 

“Sounds great,” Nick said nodding as he shrugged off his jacket off and placed it on the back of the chair. He looked at the slender yet elegant vase Monroe had chosen and leaned forward to breathe their smell in again. They had the most intoxicatingly rich aroma of any flower he had ever come across. 

“Bought those for you, huh?” Monroe teased, giving Nick a sideways glance, as he set the tray of bread on the table. 

“That bread smells delicious. As does the pasta,” Nick said, moving back from the roses.

“Apparently not as good as those roses,” Monroe commented dryly. He reached to pull his chair out, and as he did so, his knees buckled beneath him and he fell heavily against the chair, pushing it into the wall but not quite knocking it over. 

Nick rushed around the table at once and tried to help Monroe back up. But Monroe waved him off, motioning for him to go sit back down, “I’m fine.” 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Nick asked his voice laced with concern. This concern only grew when he gave Monroe a once over and saw that his eyes were glimmering a faint red. 

“Yeah, yeah. My vision just went a little fuzzy for a moment there,” Monroe said. “Don’t know what happened.” 

Nick looked at him dumbfounded; Monroe clearly had a different version of ‘okay’ than he did. He gave Monroe a skeptic look as he edged his way slowly back to the other side of the table. 

“Really, Nick, I’m fine,” Monroe said. Then he waved a hand over the dishes, “Let’s eat.” 

They then worked their way through the meal, which was, to Monroe’s credit, as delicious as it looked, as well as several stories of Monroe’s less tame years, which Nick had goaded him into telling. Had Nick stopped to analyze the quality of the date, he likely would have thought it was going well, but as is the case with such dates, there was no reflection on the merits of the other’s company, merely pure, simple enjoyment of it. 

Furthermore, although Nick had not noticed this outwardly, his nerves from earlier had turned into an unrelenting concern as he continued to watch Monroe, the animated storyteller that he’d become, anxiously. The hint of red hadn’t faded from his eyes, and although he clearly didn’t think Nick had noticed, he kept rubbing at his temples intermittently as though they were troubling him. 

Nick refrained from commenting on the situation until Monroe began listing to the side, “Okay, Monroe, you are not okay. We don’t have to do this right now. Why don’t you go and get some rest? I’ll take care of the dishes?” 

“Yeah, Nick, I think you’re right. You don’t need to worry about the dishes though,” Monroe said as he stood up. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me; it’s all sort of a vague pain. And, man, don’t take this wrong way, but I was feeling fine until about the time you came over.” 

Then Monroe’s eyes flashed, as he leaned heavily against the wall, struck with an alarming thought, “Hey, man, uh, where did you get those roses?” However, Monroe didn’t give Nick much of a chance to ponder the question, as he collapsed immediately after asking it. 

Nick didn’t waste any time darting across the room again, “Monroe? Monroe!” 

He was leaning over the other man, listening to make sure he was still breathing, which he was, as he pulled out his phone to call 911. But the phone dropped onto the floor with a clatter as Nick stared awestruck at the phenomenon occurring before him. 

Monroe’s arms were beginning to bristle with thick tufts of brownish, grey fur. His ears and nose were elongating into points. Nick initially thought that Monroe was simply taking on his blutbad form, but looking at Monroe’s eyes revealed that that was not the case. The normally reddish hue of the half-man, half-wolf form was lacking, having been replaced by the natural brownish color of Monroe’s eyes tinged with flecks of gold. 

After a minute or two, Nick was staring at the spot where Monroe had been, and was looking at a full fledged wolf. A wolf of unusually large stature, but a wolf nonetheless. 

“911, what’s your emergency?” A voice emanated from the fallen phone, and Nick, ignoring the poor operator, just gaped at the still unconscious animal that had moments prior been his would be boyfriend. When he had wondered how this would go awry, there had been many possible scenarios in his head. Monroe turning into an actual wolf had not been among them.


	2. A Man After Midnight

A sense of desperate urgency pushed him onward as Nick grasped at the fallen evergreen, trying to pull himself across despite the slickness of the bark. He tried to ignore the faint traces of blood trailing the half-melted ice dripping into the deep, wide creek below. But it only served as evidence for his purpose. The brownish red marks had been left by an injured wolf that Nick was trying to climb his way to. The wolf, caught in a tangle of branches, was unable to move, and Nick thought if he could just reach him, he could untangle the branches and help him across. Nick’s mind was fuzzy on why this was so important, but he knew with absolute certainty that it had to be done. He inched forward slowly, and after moving a few feet, the wolf was completely in view, his back paw, caught in seemingly innumerable branches, bleeding freely. 

Nick looked into the wolves’ eyes, and as he realized they were Monroe’s, looking at him pleadingly, he began to panic. He tried to scramble towards Monroe more quickly, but his arms lost their grip on the bark, and as he was falling Nick heard his name being repeated persistently with an edge of urgency, coming seemingly from the depths of the woods. Then he felt the ghost of a hand gripping at his shoulder, snapping him out of his nightmare. He found himself draped awkwardly over the bed in his aunt’s trailer, legs hanging over the side, one arm loped around the tome he had fallen asleep reading, and the other lying against the arm of a very human looking Monroe. 

“Hey, man, good of you to sleep with me on the first date,” Monroe said, admiring Nick’s look of confusion as he stared at Monroe in earnest. As the memories of the past few hours came rushing back to him, and he remembered leading a half conscious wolf into his truck and subsequently his aunt’s trailer, the look of confusion did not abate. 

“You, uh, were, uh, a wolf?” Nick said, after blinking a few times to make sure that Monroe really was solidly in front of him, unsure if he was asking a question or making a statement. 

“Unfortunately,” Monroe said. “I do, you know, enjoy having the use of opposable thumbs. Not to mention the ability to tell you that your plans are terrible. What good is reading up on blutbaden, which you already know plenty about, when the problem was clearly with the roses?” 

“Clear how?” Nick asked, his brow furrowed in an attempt to understand both how Monroe was not a wolf when he had been a few hours earlier and how Monroe was in a bed with him. Since he was only half awake, he wasn’t sure which of these situations to fixate on. Monroe, on the other hand, didn’t seem overly concerned about either. He adjusted himself so that he was leaning against the wall, and then after sliding the tome out of the way, he pulled Nick up against his shoulder. Nick relaxed into him as Monroe began to explain what he knew. 

“Well, I’m assuming that you don’t know much about enchanted flowers. Fascinating subject really, they come up frequently in wesen folklore, though it’s not really my area. And I didn’t think there was any actual basis to the lore until tonight,” Monroe began to digress as Nick turned his head to glower at him, gesturing for him to get on to his point. “Okay, right. Well, there’s this story that explains that a Grimm, and only a Grimm, can change wesen fully into their animal counterparts with the use of an enchanted rose.” 

“But I didn’t do anything to the flowers,” Nick countered defensively. “And I wouldn’t change you into a wolf intentionally even if I knew how, which I’m not saying I did.” 

“Hey, I’m not accusing you of anything,” Monroe said with an air of gravity. “You’re still new at this, and I’d like to think that your intentions with me are honorable.” 

“Well, they’re not that honorable,” Nick replied, giving Monroe a devilish grin. 

“Okay, don’t distract me,” Monroe said as he walked his fingers down Nick’s arm, his eyes focused very deliberately on the other side of the room. “Okay, where was I, so, uh, a Grimm, whether he’s aware of it or not, can for example, change a blutbad into a wolf by giving them one or, you know, a whole bouquet of roses.” 

“And the effect of the enchantment just wears off?” Nick asked. 

“Sort of. So, it does, but only for a time; the enchantment is linked to the cycle of the sun and the moon,” Monroe said. “They’re called sun roses, because their magic comes from the sun, so after the sun has fully set, the enchantment wears off.” 

“So, what you’re telling me is that you’ll be a wolf again as soon as the sun rises?” Nick asked. 

“Yes,” Monroe said, as they both attempted, unsuccessfully, to casually glance out the window. The sky was still dark, illuminated only by pale moonlight and a few scattered stars. “Which means I have, maybe two hours to set you straight. Probably not anywhere near long enough, but hey, I’ll give it a shot.”

Nick shot him an annoyed look but didn’t argue. He had gotten them into this strange mess, after all, accident or not, “Okay, so how can the enchantment be reversed?”

“Who’s saying it can?” Monroe asked, giving Nick a long, studious look that didn’t reveal whether or not he was being facetious.

The color started to drain from Nick’s face as he unconsciously began twisting fabric on Monroe’s sweater, “Please don’t tell me I can’t fix this. I can’t live with that.”

“Oh, and I can?” Monroe asked with a forced laugh. Then looking very serious, he said, “Anyway, according to wesen legend, no it can’t be reversed.”

As he watched Nick’s face fall, Monroe’s tone softened as he continued emphatically, “But, I’ve taken the liberty of going through the _appropriate_ literature in your, uh, library since you seem determined not to. Here, man, take a look at this.”

Monroe shifted himself away from Nick momentarily so that he could pick up a book from the floor and thrust it at him.

Nick flipped through a few pages before turning to give Monroe a look of exasperation, “This is in German.”

“Nothing gets by you,” Monroe said sarcastically, but looking genuinely amused. Then moved so that he was lying across the bed, his elbows on Nick’s legs, he cupped his face in one hand as he looked up at the younger man, “Well, I suppose you’d like me to translate it?”

“Monroe, don’t; this is serious,” Nick said trying to push Monroe off his lap. “I don’t know how this isn’t bothering you more.” 

“Oh, it’s bothering me a lot, but, you know, I’d rather tease you about your _obviously well thought out plans_ than think about possibly being a wolf ad infinitum. It’s just a little too much to bear, okay?” Monroe said as he took the book back from Nick and opened it to an earmarked page. “Why don’t you just work on being my wayward knight in Grimm armor, or you know, whatever you want to call it when someone goes to dip flower petals in moon water, and I’ll cope with my lupine problems my way, capice?”

“Capice,” Nick agreed. Then, he blinked, puzzled, “Wait, what about moon water and flower petals?” 

“It’s in the the book. Right here,” Monroe said tapping on the illustration of an older woman throwing several flower petals into a fountain. “It says, very skeptically, your ancestors really weren’t found of us, were they? If a Grimm, so you, wanted to remove a spell from the Solia roses, the flowers you gave me, you would have to place the petals in moon water.” 

As Nick gave Monroe a skeptic look at the phrase ‘moon water,’ he explained, “Moon water could be a lot of different things, but here it looks like it means water found in this specific, rather ornate looking, fountain. It’s a one of a kind, kind of thing and impossible to locate; it’s seriously described as being east of the sun and west of the moon.” 

Nick studied the images in the Grimm tome and searched Monroe’s face for any hint that he was making any of this up. He was on the verge of hysterical ‘it’s nearly four in the morning and this is completely absurd’ kind of laughter, “So, what you’re telling me is that I have to find an unfindable fountain and throw rose petals that I don’t have in it?” 

“Okay, first of all the rose petals are in my kitchen; second, I never said this was a good plan. It is, however, the only plan. Unless you have another one up your sleeve,” Monroe said cynically. 

“Okay, fine. How do I even look for this fountain?” Nick asked.

“Nick, I just said I don’t know anything else,” Monroe said, giving Nick a long suffering look. Then he looked thoughtful for a few moments before commenting, “I don’t know. Where did you buy the flowers?” 

“I ordered them from a flower shop,” Nick said sheepishly as he pulled himself off the bed and walked over to the desk. “A flower shop that was written down on a piece of paper that’s on the desk somewhere in here. I don’t remember the name. Hold on, let me find it.” 

“So, wait,” Monroe said, seeming to fight to keep control of his words, “You bought these at a shop recommended by your completely terrifying aunt? And you didn’t suspect that there might be any Grimm related consequences?” 

“I didn’t think that she would use flowers as weapons,” Nick said defensively.

“You also didn’t know she kept an arsenal of weapons in her trailer to begin with,” Monroe commented dryly. 

“Here it is. Aeolian Flowers, East,” Nick said, completely ignoring Monroe’s last comment. He then pulled his leather jacket on, “And I have the address right here. Let’s go!” 

“Nick, why don’t you at least wait until morning when the shop is actually going to be open?” Monroe suggested. 

“I want to set this right, and I want to set this right immediately. I wanted this night to just be about us, not the crazy Grimm related mess that we get ourselves involved in all the time because we can’t help it, because I thought that was what you wanted,” Nick said. Monroe mumbled something along the lines of, “I’m sure _I_ can help it.” But Nick continued anyway, “And instead, I’ve dragged you into a mess that I’m not even sure I can fix. I’m so sorry, Monroe.”

Monroe stood up so he could grip Nick’s shoulders, he squeezed them as he pulled Nick around, and looked him in the eyes, “Nick, even if it was a little foolhardy, you didn’t do this on purpose. I know that. You know that. And running out the door now when there’s nothing you’re going to be able to do isn’t going to help. You have no probable cause to go into a closed flower shop, and I might be wrong, but saying that your boyfriend was enchanted by a bouquet of roses probably isn’t going to change that. Let’s both get a few hours of shut eye.” 

Monroe ruffled Nick’s hair affectionately as he moved back to the bed as Nick followed him. Initially, they lay next to each other stiffly, but through a mutual, though unspoken, understanding that that was not what the other wanted, Nick threaded his arms through Monroe and the blanket. 

A short while later, when Nick had just fallen back asleep, Monroe hissed, “Nick? Are you still awake?” 

“Mmm. I am now,” Nick said, half convincingly. “What is it?” 

Monroe hesitated for a few moments before admitting, “I can’t sleep. I don’t know when it’s going to happen again, and the not knowing freaks me out a little. And, also, I’m a little afraid I’m going to seriously scratch you, man.” 

“You’re worried about _scratching me_? Don't be ridiculous,” Nick asked, exasperated. “Well, I think both of those problems can be solved by my staying up with you.” 

“Thanks, man,” Monroe said looking grateful and relieved. “But what are we going to do?” 

“Well, I’m going to find the Kincaid projector in here, and you are going to tell me more about your great Uncle Olaf and how your mom inherited all his stuff,” Nick said. 

“It’s Kineclair. And I didn’t think you were really listening,” Monroe said beaming. 

“Sometimes I’m too involved in a case to really focus on stories like that, but I always listen. Important skill for a detective,” Nick said without looking up as he rummaged through a cabinet on the other side of the trailer. “Okay, want to find out the sort of history that my ancestors felt was important to document on newsreel?” 

After Monroe acquiesced to the suggestion, Nick set up the projector, and let the newsreel play. They sat leaning against one another on the bed, chatting about Monroe’s uncle Olaf and the various historical figures who happened to be wesen until both of them fell completely asleep.


	3. The Name of the Game

After driving down several miles of Portland freeway, and instructing a reluctant Monroe to stay in the truck, Nick was walking down the long mulch-covered pathway that led up to and then ran between the two homey looking cottages that comprised the establishment of _Aeolian Flowers, East_ , trying his best to ignore the aggravating tinkling of wind chimes. The sound was filled with a sense of whimsy that he wasn’t feeling.

Nick felt like perhaps he should have known this was going to happen, perhaps not this specifically in the “accidentally cursing Monroe to a lifetime of diurnal wolfishness” sense, but certainly in the “general backfiring of his plans” sense. Ever since he had found out that he was a Grimm, it seemed like he couldn’t go a day without his Grimm life seeping into, and subsequently destroying, his personal life. While it was true that dating Monroe was more likely to entwine than separate those two things, the last thing he had wanted was for something to happen to Monroe because of who and what he was.

He kicked at the mulch in frustration as he continued down the path, paying no attention to the signs advertising crystal balls as well as the bothersome chimes. Due to this preoccupied mindset, Nick failed to notice that Monroe had been following him from a safe distance ever since he had climbed out of his truck.

However, as Nick opened the shop’s door, he saw the end of Monroe’s tail as it swished against the woodwork. He wondered briefly what had made him think that Monroe wouldn’t follow him before muttering a bitter, “After you.”

Monroe tilted his head back at Nick and rolled his eyes before continuing into the shop. After a moment, Monroe disappeared into the strangely dimly lit shop, and Nick, resolute in purpose, made his way to the oak counter at the back. He rang the bell on the counter as he considered that the thin glass vials, serving as flower vases, strewn throughout the shop seemed more suitable for an apothecary. 

“Bringing pets, let alone wolves into my shop, that just won’t do,” An elderly woman wearing faded, dirt covered overalls said as she burst into the room and attempted to shoo Monroe out the door with a broom. Monroe gave a low growl and bared his teeth at her.

“He’s not a pet,” Nick said much more vehemently than he intended. Then, although it was clear that the woman was in more danger of being hurt by Monroe than the other way around, Nick darted across the room and placed his hand protectively on Monroe’s back. 

“But he is yours?” The woman asked, looking between the wolf and the detective, an air of certainty ringing in her tone.

Nick, unable to deny that, nodded feebly. He realized now that Monroe being his pet was probably a much more logical explanation than the truth.

The woman looked down at Monroe and stared him right in the eyes, nodded, then looked up at Nick, who had been oblivious to this exchange, then asked, “This is no ordinary wolf, hmm?”

“He’s certainly something else,” Nick said with a faint laugh, glancing down at Monroe, uncertain what the woman was implying. Then, he threaded his fingers into Monroe’s fur, an unconscious move for his own benefit. Although the woman had placed the broom against the wall, and was therefore no longer a threat to Monroe, her now unwavering gaze was making Nick uncomfortable and slightly anxious. 

“I can see that. Well, I suppose you rung the bell for some reason?” The woman prompted expectantly. 

Nick loosened his hold on Monroe’s fur and attempted to regain his composure. As he relaxed, he studied the woman’s sunflower shaped name tag and finally said, “Gertie, I wanted to know if you could provide me with some information regarding a flower purchase that I made on Tuesday.” 

“Of course, dear,” she said as she walked to the counter. Nick and Monroe followed her hesitantly. 

Nick watched as she pulled a thick, worn tome out from under the counter. His eyes knitted together in confusion when she blew a thick layer of dust off the cover. If it had that much dust on it, it had to have been there longer than a few days, certainly since before Tuesday. 

His train of thought clouded as the dust swirled around his eyes and nose. Strangely, as it did, a vivid picture of a snow-covered, fallen pine, not unlike the one in his nightmare, formed unbidden in his mind. He shook his head a moment and the image disappeared. 

As he looked up, he saw that Gertie was setting a thin, gold edged mirror onto the counter; it was roughly the same size as the book. She said bluntly, “Now, I imagine you want to know how to get your mate back to his natural state more than you want to know about the flowers.” 

“I’m certain I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Nick said as his hand returned once again to Monroe’s fur. 

“Dear, if that’s a real wolf, I’ll eat my hat,” Gertie said as she tapped her fingers against the glass of the mirror. “Now, if you want my help, you just have to remind me what color were the flowers.” 

Nick studied Gertie carefully. Nothing about her suggested she was wesen, but he was wary of trusting her with Monroe’s secret, even though she seemed to already know it. However, he supposed telling her the color of the roses wasn’t actually admitting that she, mostly, had the truth of the situation, so he said stiffly, “They were yellow.” 

“Ah yes. I remember talking to you on the phone now. A deep yearning for a friendship that you value deeply to turn into something more. So, yellow roses for a new beginning. Perhaps I was wrong about calling him your mate. I suppose you’re not there yet,” Gertie said dazedly as she pulled a petal off of a bouquet of tulips and sunflowers, resting it in the center of the mirror. Then, focusing solely on the mirror, Gertie took a deep breath in and blew on it; then as a yellowish gold mist overtook it, she tilted it upwards. Then she raised her head and gestured for Nick to look into it. 

Again, Nick saw the large fallen evergreen with an injured Monroe lying halfway across. However, unlike in his dream, Nick could see past the bramble that had Monroe trapped to the other side of the creek where a gigantic marble fountain rose from the ground, where dim moonlight made the crystal clear water sparkle. The fountain was three tiers high, and each tier was a different shape, the first, lowest to the ground, a sunburst, followed by a five point star, and finally, at the top, a crescent moon. Nick recognized it immediately as the fountain Monroe had showed him earlier. Despite his best effort, his eyes widen in surprise. 

“Where is this place I’m looking at? How can I find it?” Nick asked, hoping to god she didn’t say “east of the sun and west of the moon.” He had kind of hoped that Monroe had been joking about that, but it wasn’t seeming any more likely in the light of day. 

“I don’t know what you’re seeing, dear,” Gertie said as she placed the book that had held the mirror back beneath the counter. “But the mirror can show you the way.” 

“The mirror can show me the way?” Nick repeated skeptically, measuring each word. 

“It’s a compass of sorts. It can get you places no map ever could, which I imagine is what you need,” Gertie said distractedly as she started arranging a new bouquet. 

“How does it work?” Nick asked as he glanced at the mirror again. The images of the creek and the fountain had disappeared. 

“Take these,” Gertie said impatiently as she handed Nick a bouquet of sunflowers. “Place a petal in the center of the mirror, then breathe on it as you focus on what you’re trying to find, and only on what you’re trying to find. Remember have faith in it or it won’t work.” 

“That’s all there is to it?” Nick asked skeptically as he took the mirror from the counter. 

“It seems so simple, but it isn’t because no one believes,” Gertie said cryptically. Then she shook her head as if to clear it, then said with a tone of finality, “But I think we’re done here.” 

Nick sensed that he and Monroe were no longer welcome inside the shop, but he didn’t want to be rude to the woman who had just offered him a magic mirror. He held it up and asked, “How much do I owe you for this?” 

“Just don’t come back, dear. I can sense that you bring trouble wherever you go, and I don’t want it in my shop,” Gertie said as she pointed at the door. “But, I wish you luck.” 

When Nick and Monroe were back in his truck, Nick placed his elbow on the steering wheel and placed his hand on his head, then said aloud, half forgetting that Monroe was there, “An impossible fountain and a magic mirror compass. Is it possible for this to get more weird?” 

Nick’s musing was interrupted by Monroe’s forepaw tapping insistently on his shoulder. Nick had placed the mirror on the center console, and it seemed Monroe was trying to place a petal onto it, which was not going particularly well due to his lack of thumbs. Realizing Monroe’s plight, Nick set a petal on the mirror and watched as Monroe breathed on the glass. A yellowish-red mist clouded the mirror for a moment before revealing a trail leading into a heavily wooded area with a sign proclaiming itself to be _Aelion Flowers, North_. 

Since it seemed that they now had a location, Nick pulled out his phone to try and find an address. However, he found that no such place was listed in an internet search. He gave Monroe a disparaging look before lifting the mirror up to try and see if there was a road sign or something or anything he might have missed. But the only thing he found was an odd inscription on the back of the mirror _You’ll get there too late or never. Where I've failed, mayhaps another can help_

Nick sighed, then leaned down to scratch the fur behind Monroe’s ears, “I need you back so you can tell me what to do because, unlike this mirror, you’re good at that.” 

Monroe looked like he wanted to say something, but since he was unable to, he shrugged and curled up on the seat. 

“I’ll just take that as some kind of snarky retort,” Nick said as he watched Monroe with amusement as he turned the keys in the ignition. “Well, let’s get some lunch before we continue our absurd quest for the moon fountain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3/26/14: I'm hoping to finish this one, and I've written a good portion of the next chapter. 
> 
> Sadly for any of you who want me to finish my Grimm fic, I'm on a huge Supernatural/Destiel kick. So...sorry about that.


End file.
